The Enchanted Cave of Cesh Corran
Автор книги James Stephens
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Film. Mcwhile was the most prudent chief of an army in the world. But he was not always prudent on his own account. Discipline sometimes irked him, and he would then take any opportunity that presented for an adventure. For he was not only a soldier, he was a poet also, that is, a man of science.
And whatever was strange or unusual usual had an irresistible at traction for him. Such a soldier was he, that single handed he could take the Fianna out of any hole they got into. But such an inveterate poet was he that all the Fianna together could scarcely retrieve him from the abysses into which he tumbled. It took him to keep the Fianna safe, but it took all the Fianna to keep their captain out of danger. They did not complain of this, for they loved every hair of Fion's head more than they loved their wives and children.
And that was reasonable, for there was never in the world a person more worthy of love than Fion was. Gol mcmorna did not admit so much in words, but he admitted it in all his actions. For although he never lost an opportunity of killing a member of Fion's family, there was deadly feud between clan biosny and clan morna. Yet a call from Fion brought Gaul raging to his assistance like a lion that rages tenderly by his mate. Not even a call was necessary, for Gaul felt in his heart when Fion was threatened and he would leave Fion's own brother, only half killed, to fly where his arm was wanted.
He was never thanked, of course, for although Fion loved Gaul, he did not like him. And that was how Gaul felt towards Fion fian with Conan. The Swearer and the Dog's Bran the swearer and the Dog's Bran and Sealin was sitting on the hunting mound at the top of Sesh Koran. Below and around, on every side, the Fianna were beating the coverts in legny and brefney, ranging the fastnesses of Glenn Dallon creeping in the nut and beach forests of Carbury, spying among the woods of Kyle Connor and ranging the wide plain of Moy Connell. And ranging the wide plain of Moyconnell.
The great captain was happy. His eyes were resting on the sights he liked best the sunlight of a clear day, the waving trees, the pure sky and the lovely movement of the earth. And his ears were filled with delectable sounds the baying of eager dogs, the clear calling of young men, the shrill whistling that came from every side and each sound of which told a definite thing about the hunt. There was also the plunge and scurry of the deer, the yapping of badgers and the whir of birds driven into reluctant flight.